


Understudy

by filthybonnet



Series: She Will Never Sing [2]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Love Never Dies - Lloyd Webber, Love Never Dies - Lloyd Weber RPF, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Christine automaton - Freeform, F/M, Secrets, love never dies au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthybonnet/pseuds/filthybonnet
Summary: While pretty much healed from being shot on that fateful night on the dock, Mr. Y still insists Christine rests while he is busy securing their future and his park. However Christine is restless and decides to explore Mr. Y's vast house alone when she discovers a secret.





	Understudy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [i_penna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_penna/gifts).



> This was written as a mini phic prompt response on tumblr that was given to me by my phriend i_penna who it is now gifted to!

“This is almost too sweet,” Christine de Chagny sat the spoon back down in the bowl of porridge that was topped with pure maple syrup.

“No it’s not!” Gustave took the spoon and ate several bites of the porridge.

There was a knock at the bedroom door, “May I come in, Christine?”

The Soprano adjusted herself on the pillows as Gustave rearranged the breakfast tray that sat across her lap as she lay in bed, “You may.”

The door slowly opened and Mr. Y stepped in. He smiled at the domestic image of the woman he loved and her son, _their_ son sitting next to each other on the bed. “And how are we this morning?”

“The porridge is so good, Mr. Y!” Gustave stood up and walked up to the man. “Mother says that maple syrup is too sweet but I love it!”

The boy was still fascinated with the mysterious masked man, but still had yet to call him father after the shocking reveal of that knowledge on that almost tragic night.

“I said it was almost too sweet. Don’t lie, Gustave.”

The boy wrinkled his nose and headed out onto the balcony.

Erik moved the breakfast tray to the other side of Christine before sitting down next to her on the bed. His golden eyes were wide as he licked his lips. Christine simply nodded her head, her brown locks flowing as she pulled down the duvet exposing, she was in her chemise and bloomers. Through the thin fabric a large bruise in deep shades of purple, blue, brown and red could be seen on her right side above her pelvic bone.

“It only looks horrible now, Erik. It doesn’t hurt like it did. I’m not even taking anything for the pain anymore.” She lifted her hand to the good side of his face and caressed it.

“It’s going to leave a brutal scar,” Mr. Y’s hand hovered over the bruise. “I never wanted you scarred like me.”

“Rather scarred and alive…”

“Yes, yes…” He pulled the covers back up over her body and kissed her on the forehead.

Christine whispered, “Have you heard from Raoul?”

Erik closed his eyes and nodded, “His lawyer here is in contact with his lawyers in Paris getting the needed paperwork, including receipts stating his debtors are paid in full. It was done with money that was legitimately his; not yours, not mine.”

“Thank you.”

Erik took a deep breath, “Though he does want to see the boy once the paperwork is signed and before he returns to Paris.”

Christine looked over at Gustave looking out on the balcony. She took Erik’s hands into hers, “Raoul deserves that, he was his father for ten years. Don’t begrudge him.”

He nodded and kissed her hand, “I know you are not in as much pain but you still need your rest.” He let go of her hand and then sat the breakfast tray back up over her waist. “And nourishment. I will send someone to check on you later.”  Mr. Y walked over to the balcony, “Gustave! Come! You and I shall have breakfast together before your lessons.”

Once father and son were out of the room, Christine sighed. With only some slight discomfort she placed the breakfast tray back on the other side of the bed. She was weary of resting; the worst was behind her. She put her nightgown on over her undergarments and tied on her most elegant dressing robe. With so many layers of lace and pink ribbons one, in passing, might just mistake it for a tea dress. With an additional pair of matching pink slippers on her feet, Christine felt like a naughty child instead of the grown woman she was as she left her bedroom.

*******

“What do you mean she’s not in her room?” Mr. Y’s voice boomed through the quite Phantasma midway.

“The tray was on the bed but bed was empty, unmade,” Fleck stated. “Gustave was with his tutor and had no seen his mother at all.”

Dropping his screwdriver, Erik leaped up and ran towards his house.

*******

_I did not faint this time, Erik. Then again you didn’t show me. I found it by accident. How marvelous a creation; a vast improvement. Do I dare ask why? Do I want to know?_

The door swung open, a voice muttering to itself, “You locked the door, you locked the door…”

Christine spun around; her fingers still entwined in the automaton’s hair. Her mouth dropped open to speak but said nothing. The exposed side of Mr. Y’s face turned as white as the mask on the other side at the double vision in front of him. He gasped and dropped to his knees. He continued to gasp for air as he punched the floor. “No, no, no!” He finally managed to exclaim.

The Soprano walked over to him and lifted his face with her chin. He closed his eyes and turned away; the shame apparent. Again, she lifted his face up at her. Color flushed to his cheek and his eyes widened as she removed his mask. Through the distortion this flesh now burned bright as well. Tears streamed just as hot down those cheeks as his fingers grabbed at the hem of her dressing gown.  Those golden eyes and the flesh of those cheeks both so on fire burned her deep into her soul.

She smiled softly at him, “I believe I found my understudy. I hope I have nothing to worry about.”

Legs trembling, Erik stood and pulled Christine’s lips to his bloated ones. He poured all the passion he could through those lips and his fingers now running through her hair. He was still aware of that awful bruise on her side and didn’t want to agitate it. He had no need for that automaton understudy.


End file.
